


Sleepless in Chicago

by sahiya



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (but not really), Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Magic Blowjob, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: “Babe,” Jonny said, “how long has it been since you slept?”“Three nights,” Patrick said.





	Sleepless in Chicago

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marieke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieke/gifts).



> This was written for marieke as part of what I've decided to call my "2017 Fuck Trump H/C Bingo Fundraiser."
> 
> Basically, I created and posted a [custom h/c Bingo card](http://sahiya.dreamwidth.org/736914.html). In exchange for a small donation to an organization working against Trump's agenda, I am happy to write you a hurt/comfort fic based on one of the prompts. I'm offering hockey and Avengers fandoms; see the post for further details and to see which prompts are still available. I don't allow anonymous posting on my Dreamwidth, but you are welcome to comment here with your request.
> 
> Suggested organizations include: Planned Parenthood, the International Rescue Committee, ProPublica or the Center for Investigative Journalism, Emily's List, the Sierra Club or the Environmental Defense Fund, the Trevor Project, the Committee on American-Islamic Relations, and of course the ACLU. 
> 
> Thanks to Miri_Thompson for beta reading! Sorry not sorry about the title.

There was someone on the sofa in Jonny’s living room. 

Jonny froze, halfway down the stairs, jolted out of his half-awake state by the sudden flood of adrenaline. It took him another couple seconds to recognize the silhouette of Patrick’s head and shoulders, backlit by the sun rising over the lake. 

He had to take a couple deep breaths to try and slow his heart rate. It was early – not even seven yet – and Jonny wouldn’t have been up at all except that his favorite yoga instructor had switched to the 7:30 class. But there was Patrick. In his living room. At 6:48AM. Which was weird. They’d fucked at Patrick’s place after getting home from the game, but Jonny’d had the early yoga class, and Patrick hadn’t wanted to drag himself out of bed to come home with him. 

“Patrick?” Jonny said, softly, in case Patrick was asleep. 

Patrick lifted his head but didn't twist around to look at Jonny. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Jonny asked, coming down the last few stairs. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.” 

“You couldn’t sleep?” Jonny said, frowning at the back of Patrick’s head. “So you came here instead of making some tea and taking a melatonin?”

“Did both those things. Didn’t work.”

Jonny frowned. “That sucks.” He’d never been a good sleeper himself, not since he was a kid, and he’d had a hell of a time sleeping his first couple of years in the league. At least they didn’t have a game today, or even skate. Patrick could be as useless as he needed to be. “Why didn’t you just get in bed with me?”

“Didn’t want to wake you. You looked like you were out.”

“Okay,” Jonny said, slowly. Patrick sounded weird. Distant. “So why did you come over?”

Patrick shrugged. “Thought you might be awake.”

None of this made sense, Jonny thought. He stared at Patrick, who’d let his head fall back down to rest on the arm of the sofa. It wasn’t normal Patrick logic. Normal Patrick would have texted to see if he was awake, or just come and crawled in bed with him. Jonny knew that not being able to sleep made people make weird choices, but this seemed weirder than that. This seemed like...

_Oh._

“Babe,” Jonny said, “how long has it been since you slept?”

“Three nights,” Patrick said. He sounded more relieved than anything else, like he’d been waiting for Jonny to figure it out. “Well, I think I did sleep for a couple of hours here and there. I fell asleep last night after you left. But I woke up about two hours later and couldn’t get back to sleep. Think I’ve had four or five hours in three nights, maybe?”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Patrick sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus, Jonny, how do you do this? How do you _play_ like this? I feel like I’m going nuts.”

“Hey, hey,” Jonny said, coming around the sofa to sit beside Patrick. “Three nights, Peeks? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Patrick looked suddenly on the edge of tears. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I thought it’d stop, and I didn’t want you to worry, or tell me I shouldn’t play – and I don’t know why it’s happening. I’ve never had more than one night of not being able to sleep before.”

It made a certain amount of sense. Jonny had thought Patrick seemed off last night. He’d scored, but even his celly had seemed subdued. And there’d been times during sex when Jonny had felt like Patrick wasn’t all there. He probably hadn’t been in the mood at all, he thought, but he’d hoped that getting off might put him to sleep. Jonny knew that trick. It sounded like it’d even worked, only Patrick hadn’t been able to _stay_ asleep. 

“The important thing is to not panic,” Jonny told him. “Insomnia is a self-perpetuating cycle. You get anxious about not sleeping, and the anxiety makes it harder to sleep.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know.” Jonny rested his hand on Patrick’s head. “Listen. I’m going to go to my yoga class. Go lie down in my bed and put on the white noise generator.”

“Can’t I just take an Ambien?”

“I don’t have any, and even if I did, you can’t take that shit at seven in the morning.”

“Fine,” Patrick sighed. Jonny hauled him to his feet and pulled him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Patrick face planted into the bed, and Jonny pulled the rumpled covers over him. 

“You want ocean waves or heavy rain?” Jonny asked, flipping through the possibilities on the little machine by his bed. “Or just plain old white noise?”

“Um, rain, I guess.”

Jonny set it and the sound of heavy rain on a roof filled the room. He leaned down and kissed Patrick, then stroked a hand through his hair. “Close your eyes,” he murmured, lips close to Patrick’s ear. “Just listen to the rain. Try to let your brain turn off.”

“Mmm,” Patrick murmured, eyes falling shut. Jonny brushed his lips against Patrick’s forehead one last time and left.

***

Jonny was sweaty but satisfied when he trudged back upstairs after his yoga class. His muscles felt stretched and used in a good way, a different way than hockey used them. He let himself into his apartment as quietly as possible, hoping Patrick was asleep. He couldn’t let him sleep _too_ late or he’d fuck up his circadian rhythm, but he could probably let him sleep till eleven or eleven-thirty. 

Jonny eased the door to the bedroom open. The room was dim, despite the sunny day, because of the room-darkening curtains. But it wasn’t so dim that he couldn’t see Patrick, lying on his back on the bed with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. 

Jonny sighed. “No luck?”

“I’m never sleeping again,” Patrick said, eyes still trained on the ceiling. 

“Babe,” Jonny said, suppressing a smile. It wasn’t funny. It had never been funny to him during those stretches when it had really felt that way. 

“And we’ve got that road trip starting tomorrow,” Patrick went on. “ _Fuck_.”

Jonny grimaced. Tomorrow after skate, they were scheduled to fly to Anaheim. Over the next week, they’d play the Ducks, Kings, Sharks, and Oilers in quick succession. Four hotels in six days. Jonny knew from experience just how much worse insomnia was on road trips, when you didn’t even have the comfort of being in your own bed.

Patrick wasn’t going to go through that, Jonny decided. Not if he had anything to say about it. All those sleepless nights he’d endured had to be good for _something._

“Come on,” Jonny said, pulling the covers off of Patrick. “You’re not going to lie in this room all day. Get up, let’s shower.”

Patrick groaned and grumbled, but he let Jonny shivvy him into the shower. He sat slumped on the bench while Jonny soaped up and washed his hair, but he roused a little when Jonny handed him the shower head and a sudsy wash cloth. When he reached for the shampoo, Jonny batted his hand away and shoved him back down onto the bench. Patrick slumped tiredly, not resisting in the slightest as Jonny washed his hair for him, treating him to a thorough scalp massage at the same time. His eyes went heavy and half-lidded, but he didn’t actually fall asleep. 

They dried off, and Jonny threw a pair of jeans and a t-shirt at Patrick from the drawer of stuff he kept in Jonny’s condo. “No pajamas,” Jonny said. “Get dressed.”

“Jesus, you’re mean,” Patrick muttered.

Jonny softened a little. “I just know what works.”

“For you.”

“Yeah, for me,” Jonny said flatly. “Which one of us here is a seasoned insomniac?”

Patrick opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. 

“That’s right. So get dressed.”

Jonny left Patrick behind in the bedroom to go start breakfast. He was mixing batter for gluten free buckwheat pancakes when Patrick emerged, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a sheepish expression. 

“Sorry,” he said, slumping at the kitchen island. 

Jonny pushed a pineapple toward him. “You can apologize by slicing that. Actually,” he amended swiftly, taking the pineapple back, “never mind. No knives for you. And no actual cooking, either. Here, fold the blueberries into the batter.”

Patrick took the bowl of batter and the carton of blueberries from him. Jonny set to work on the pineapple. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do this. I’m totally useless right now.”

“It sounds terrible,” Jonny said, chopping the top of the pineapple off, “but I’m used to it. And I know what works. I stick to a schedule, I do yoga on my days off, and I don’t drink caffeine after noon or eat sugar after three o’clock.”

“Your body is a microchip, you know that?”

Jonny rolled his eyes. “You probably won’t have to make those adjustments. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s temporary. You’ve never had to pay as much attention to any of that as I’ve had to.”

“Yeah, but...”

“What?”

“We’re pushing thirty now. What if this is how it starts?”

“How what starts?”

Patrick shrugged. “Getting old.”

Jonny started to roll his eyes again, but then he stopped. Patrick didn’t look like it had been a flip remark, and Jonny reminded himself of how much _worse_ everything felt when he hadn’t slept. “Then you’ll figure it out,” Jonny said. “Just like I did.”

Patrick nodded. He was still folding the blueberries in, over and over. Jonny took the bowl away from him before he mashed them all up and turned the batter purple. 

Breakfast was delicious, if Jonny could say so himself, and for once Patrick didn’t bitch about the lack of bacon or sausage. He ate well enough, even if he didn’t seem to have nearly as much enthusiasm as usual. They did the dishes together, and then Jonny made Patrick go put his shoes and coat on. And a hat. Not a Hawks hat. The last thing they needed was a bunch of people recognizing them. 

Jonny drove them to Burnham Park and dragged Patrick, grumbling, down from the parking lot to the promenade. It was a sunny day but still too cold to be comfortable for walking, especially with the wind off the lake. There were a few joggers, plugged into their headphones, but mostly it was deserted. 

“So, what? We just walk?” Patrick asked, kind of petulantly. “I’m a professional athlete, Jonny. This isn’t going to make me tired.”

“The point isn’t to make you tired, it’s to get you outside so your body remembers when it’s supposed to sleep and when it’s supposed to be awake.”

“Like jetlag?” 

“Kind of,” Jonny said with a shrug. “And moving around does help. Plus, you can’t just lie in bed all day and think about how you can’t sleep.”

“I guess that’s true.”

Patrick went quiet, and the two of them shuffled along in silence for a few minutes. “I keep thinking about all those times you couldn’t sleep before games,” Patrick said at last. “Our first couple of years, I mean, before you’d figured things out.”

Jonny nodded. “It sucked.”

“I’m sure I didn’t help.”

Jonny glanced at him. “You did, actually.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there were times I wanted to murder you for being able to sleep when I couldn’t –”

Patrick snorted.

“– but I think it’s good I wasn’t on my own. When I started feeling crazy at three in the morning, I could listen to you breathing. Sometimes it even put me out.”

Patrick laughed. “You mean I was a living, breathing white noise machine?”

Jonny grinned. “I guess so.”

“Well,” Patrick said, looking out over the lake, “I guess I’ve been called worse.” He let out a long sigh. “I should’ve told you sooner. I don’t really know why I didn’t.”

Jonny shrugged. “People do stupid shit when they’re not sleeping. I’m just glad you came over last night.”

“Me too,” Patrick said, glancing at him. “So what’s the plan for the rest of the day? I know you’ve got one.”

“Lunch, after our walk,” Jonny said, “and then maybe some yoga on the roof deck.”

“Are you kidding m –”

“And then I thought I’d suck your brains out through your dick.”

Patrick’s mouth snapped shut with an audible _click_. 

“If you still can’t sleep after that, I can get you high,” Jonny added. “THC is pretty effective for me. But I bet it won’t be necessary.”

Patrick swallowed. “You are really confident. Any chance we can skip the yoga?”

“No.” Jonny pushed Patrick down the path. “Come on, Peeks. Keep walking.”

***

Patrick grumbled all the way through his yoga poses on Jonny’s roof deck, even though it was sunny and the heaters and carefully placed windbreaks meant that it wasn’t cold. He bitched when Jonny made him hold the poses longer than was comfortable and resisted when Jonny tried to correct his posture. Finally Jonny stretched out on the mat beside him, hands over his head, and stared up at the puffy white clouds scuttling across the pale blue sky.

“Now what?” Patrick demanded from beside him. 

“Now nothing,” Jonny said. “Just be quiet. Breathe. Watch the clouds.”

Patrick sighed. “Okay.”

He fidgeted at first, but at least he was silent. Jonny breathed slowly in and out, until he felt Patrick settle. It was warm on the deck – the heaters were extremely effective – and Jonny was always most comfortable when he was lying next to Patrick. He could have happily drowsed off himself, but he was too conscious of Patrick to quite get there. 

Some indeterminate amount of time later – it was at least thirty minutes, Jonny thought, but it might’ve been closer to sixty – he sat up, slowly, and looked at Patrick. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even. Jonny started to smile. 

“I’m awake,” Patrick muttered without opening his eyes. “Stop looking so smug.”

“How do you know if I’m looking smug?” 

“I can _feel_ you looking smug.” Patrick opened his eyes. “And I’m awake, so there’s nothing for you to be smug about.”

“Not yet.” Jonny threw his leg over Patrick’s so he was straddling his hips. “Remember what I promised earlier?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, with a remarkable lack of enthusiasm.

Jonny frowned. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” Patrick snapped. “I’m really fucking tired, and your blowjobs aren’t actually magic. I just want to _sleep_.”

It was nearly a sob of frustration. Patrick looked, if Jonny wasn’t mistaken, like he might be on the verge of tears. Jonny bit his lip, wondering suddenly if he was going about this all wrong.

“Come on.” Jonny stood up and offered Patrick a hand. 

Patrick didn’t look like he especially wanted to get up, but he let Jonny pull him to his feet. Jonny kept a hold of him as he led him the stairs to the media room. Jonny sat down on the chaise lounge section of the sofa and tugged on Patrick’s hand, pulling him down into his lap so he was sprawled there between Jonny’s legs. Jonny wrapped him up tight with arms and legs and held on until he felt Patrick start to relax. 

“Hockey or a movie?” he murmured into Patrick’s ear. 

“Movie,” Patrick said, unpredictably. Ninety percent of the time, Patrick chose hockey. “You choose. Something I’ve seen.”

“Hmm.” Jonny surfed through the Netflix offerings before finally settling on _Guardians of the Galaxy._ He hit play and set the remote aside, wrapping both arms around Patrick again. 

Patrick sighed and sank into him, turning his head to nuzzle into Jonny’s neck. “Sorry about before.”

“It’s okay,” Jonny said. “I was being kind of pushy. I know what works for me, but it might not be what works for you.”

Patrick shrugged. “What works for you is all we have to go on. I don’t know what works for me. But this is okay. I like this.”

Jonny squeezed him tight. “Doesn’t suck for me either.”

Patrick went quiet as the movie started. Jonny couldn’t see from this angle whether his eyes were open or closed or how much he was really paying attention. He kept one ear on the movie, but he felt like his whole body was tuned to Patrick’s, waiting for him to fall asleep. He was stroking the inside of Patrick’s right wrist, over the scars from his surgery, faded and faint now. It was one of his favorite parts of Patrick’s body. He loved Patrick’s hands in general, but his wrists were almost delicate, and Jonny loved touching them. They were sensitive, despite the scar tissue. In the right mood, touching Patrick there could make him shiver all over. 

Patrick didn’t fall asleep, to Jonny’s disappointment. But by the time the movie had finished, he had definitely relaxed – melted, basically, right into Jonny and the sofa. Jonny felt bad making him move, but they needed to eat something, and then, if Patrick let him, he was going to make good on his promise. 

He heated up some chicken and rice with sauteed kale that his meal service had delivered, with a beer – just one – for Patrick and a glass of wine for himself. Usually he would have prodded Patrick into eating at the kitchen island, but he looked too comfortable on the sofa. Jonny brought the food and the drinks into the living room and handed Patrick’s to him. 

“Thanks.” Patrick had been watching NHL Network, but to Jonny’s surprise, he turned the TV off. He took a bite of kale and pulled a face. “You got any rooster sauce?”

Jonny rolled his eyes. “Yes. Door of the fridge.”

Patrick got up and came back with the Sriracha Jonny only kept on hand for him and a couple of the other guys who dumped it all over everything. He covered the kale with it, then looked contemplatively at the chicken. 

“Try it first,” Jonny said, trying and probably failing not to sound too much like someone’s nagging mother.

Patrick tasted it and shrugged, leaving the Sriracha off. 

Patrick worked his way steadily through his plate, but by the end he was physically drooping. He drank about half his beer and then switched to water. Jonny glanced at his watch. It was half past eight. Late enough, and Patrick was blinking rapidly, like he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

“Come on,” he said, taking Patrick’s empty plate and setting it on the coffee table with his own. 

“So tired,” Patrick mumbled as Jonny shepherded him up the stairs to the bedroom. “Oh God, what if I still can’t sleep?”

“Shh,” Jonny said. He pushed him down so he was sitting on the bed and started pulling his clothes off. Shirt first, then shoes and socks, and then he went for the belt and pants. Patrick had to stand up for Jonny to pull them down and off. He collapsed backward across the bed

“Mmph,” he mumbled, as Jonny went for his boxers. “I don’t know if I’m up for this.”

“You’re not up for lying there and getting your dick sucked?” Jonny said, arching an eyebrow at him. 

Patrick’s lips quirked. “Well, when you put it that way...”

“Look, you can tap out any time if it’s really not working for you,” Jonny said. “Just close your eyes and try to relax, all right? Let’s get you situated so that if you do fall asleep, I don’t have to wake you up to get you under the covers.”

“Good idea.” Patrick shoved the covers on his side of the bed to the side and lay down, head on his pillow. “You know,” he remarked, “there was a time when I would’ve said that it was it was ridiculous to _want_ to fall asleep during sex. But I would take it right now. I would really, really take it right now.” 

Jonny laughed quietly, settling himself between Patrick’s legs. “I’ve been there, babe.”

“Yeah.” Patrick reached down to stroke Jonny’s hair. “Hey, would you mind if we put the white noise machine on?”

“Oh, sure.” Jonny got up to poke at it. “Do you want –”

“Ocean waves.”

“You got it.” Jonny set the machine and the sound of waves crashing on the beach filled the room, interrupted occasionally by the cries of gulls. “Maybe we can go somewhere warm during bye week this year. That’d be nice.”

“Mmm,” Patrick said. “Yeah. The Caribbean.”

“Yeah,” Jonny said, stripping down to his boxers. He rummaged in the nighstand for lube. “Or Hawaii.”

“Too far. Mexico?”

“Maybe Mexico.”

Patrick yawned. “We should go to...Thailand or something in the off-season.”

Jonny knelt on the bed again between Patrick’s legs and dropped the bottle of lube on the covers. “Imagine we’re there right now,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “Nothing to worry about and nowhere to be. We’ve got our own little hut on our own little private beach. We don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us.” He took Patrick’s dick in his hand and gave it a couple of light strokes. It wasn’t all that interested yet, but it started to chub up. Patrick shifted, breath catching when Jonny twisted his wrist just so, and then went still again.

Jonny bent his head and took the head of Patrick's cock in his mouth. Patrick was cut and sensitive when he wasn't really turned on, so Jonny started out nice and slow, lots of spit and tongue but not much suction. He kept it up until Patrick was shifting impatiently and, finally, made a noise low in his throat. More pressure, then, more tongue, and Jonny fumbled with one hand for the lube.

He couldn't tell if the gasp Patrick gave was at the trick Jonny did with his tongue or a Pavlovian response to the lid on the bottle of lube popping open. Either way, Patrick was several degrees more turned on than he had been even thirty seconds earlier. 

He spilled some lube trying to get his fingers slicked up one-handed, but the other hand was busy holding Patrick's hips on the bed. Patrick drew his knees up without having to be asked, and Jonny rewarded him by taking him deeper than he had so far, almost as far as he could without gagging on it. Patrick swore.

Jonny pulled off with a faint _pop_. “Want to tap out? Still not doing it for you?”

“I will fucking kill you – ohh,” Patrick moaned as Jonny swallowed him back down and this time pressed behind his balls with two slick fingers. Patrick shuddered, and his hole, when Jonny sought it out, was already fluttering a little.

Fuck, that was hot. Jonny’s own arousal had been simmering along steadily, most of his concentration on Patrick, but just that little involuntary muscle contraction made him groan. He pressed inside with one finger.

Patrick shivered. “More.” Jonny hesitated, and Patrick growled. “ _More_ , Jonny. C’mon.”

Jonny added a second finger. Patrick’s body took it easily, and Jonny pressed inside, searching until he felt Patrick clench around his fingers, trying to hold him in place. Patrick groaned, deeper this time. “There, perfect, God,” he mumbled, sounding out of his head. “Please, Jonny.”

“Please what?” Jonny asked, just to be a dick. 

Patrick lifted his head and tried to glare, but with Jonny’s fingers working his prostate, he couldn’t quite manage it. He let his head fall back. “Please – ah! – please suck me.”

“I guess I can do that.” Jonny bent down to lick a stripe up the vein that ran up the underside of Patrick’s cock. A shudder ran down the length of Patrick’s body, from the top of his head all the way to his toes, which curled up tight. He wasn’t going to last much longer, Jonny suspected. Patrick was completely failing to stay still now, hips twitching under Jonny’s hand every time he sank down to take Patrick all the way into his mouth or brushed his fingers against Patrick’s prostate. His breathing went harsh and uneven, and then his back bowed and he went totally still, the only warning Jonny got before he came. 

Jonny swallowed, because he was a champion cock-sucker, and then he crawled up the bed to kiss Patrick. 

“Sorry,” Patrick mumbled, eyes not even open. “Should’ve warned...”

“I knew you were close,” Jonny replied, and curled his body very deliberately around Patrick’s, stroking deliberately up and down the inside of his arm, from his elbow to his wrist and back again. Jonny thought he might’ve actually sucked Patrick’s brain out through his cock – or at least, come close enough that Patrick wasn’t worried anymore about whether he’d be able to sleep. 

Of course, Jonny knew this wasn’t the real test. Patrick had fallen asleep easily enough the night before. The real test was whether he’d be able to stay asleep. Jonny was really hoping he would, or else the west coast road trip was going to be hell – for both of them, probably.

Jonny stayed until he was certain Patrick was really and truly asleep, but. It was still way too early for people who hadn’t been up for three days straight to go to bed. He went back downstairs and puttered around the kitchen while he finished watching the game he and Patrick had started, then did his evening yoga routine to wind down. He kept one ear out for noise from upstairs the entire time, but when he finally tiptoed back upstairs, Patrick was still out cold.

Jonny did his best not to jostle Patrick as he got back into bed. He wondered briefly if he should sleep in the guest room and let Patrick have the bed to himself. But if he _did_ wake up, Jonny wanted to be there. 

Patrick didn’t so much as twitch. Jonny forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle, and drifted off to the sound of waves crashing on the beach and Patrick’s deep, even breathing. 

***

Jonny woke to the smell of coffee. For a few seconds he thought he was dreaming, but then he managed to drag his eyes open and realized there was a cup hovering right in front of his nose. “Mmm?” he managed. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Patrick said, singsongy and obnoxious. 

Jonny blinked up at him. “Uh.”

Patrick prodded him into sitting up and then handed him the cup of coffee, folding Jonny’s hands around it until he was holding it on his own. “You know what’s amazing?” Patrick said, flopping down beside Jonny on the bed. 

“Caffeine?” Jonny suggested, practically inhaling the cup. Patrick had added almond milk and honey, just the way Jonny liked, even though Patrick said that was a disgusting way to take a cup of coffee. 

“No, _sleep_ ,” Patrick replied, practically crowing. “Oh my God, I _slept_. I slept so hard. I feel amazing, don’t you feel amazing?”

Jonny had to smile. “You slept through the night?”

“Straight through,” Patrick said with a grin. “I guess your blowjobs really are magic.”

“Shouldn’t have doubted me,” Jonny said, letting himself sound smug. 

Patrick grinned at him. “Yeah, all right. You knew what was what.” He sighed. “I’m just glad it worked. Fuck, that sucked.”

“Well, now we know what to do if it happens again.”

“Magic blowjobs,” Patrick agreed, grinning. 

Jonny rolled his eyes. “We did a bunch of other stuff, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it was the blowjob. Speaking of which – want me to return the favor?” Patrick stuck his tongue in his cheek, pushing it out obscenely. 

Why, Jonny thought resignedly. Why was he so attracted to this man? “I’m barely awake.”

“You can’t be less awake than I was last night.”

Jonny sighed. “You know I’m not really into morning sex. Rain check till tonight?”

“Fine,” Patrick grumbled. “Spoilsport. I feel like Superman. I could give you the best fucking blow job right now.”

Jonny had to smile, hiding it behind his cup of coffee. “Tonight.”

“Okay,” Patrick sighed. He looked up at Jonny. “Seriously, Jonny, thanks. I know I was kind of a whiny pain in the ass yesterday.”

“Yeah, but you were my whiny pain in the ass.”

Patrick smirked, but after a few seconds, his expression softened and turned thoughtful. “You never whined, back when it was bad for you. If I hadn’t been rooming with you, I don’t think I would have known you weren’t sleeping. You never said a word about it, really.”

Jonny shrugged. “Wouldn’t have helped.”

“Yeah, but – it sucked. I couldn’t have played like that.”

“You would have, if you’d had to,” Jonny said. “Adrenaline can do a lot.”

“Yeah, but...you’d tell me if it got bad again, right? You wouldn’t just, like, suffer in silence?”

“Of course I’d tell you,” Jonny said, surprised.

“Good.” Patrick sat up and kissed him, hard and fast, and then practically bounced off the bed. “C’mon, get up, I made breakfast, and we have skate in two hours.”

“Ugh, you’re such a morning person,” Jonny groaned. Patrick cackled all the way down the stairs. Jonny smiled smugly to himself, drained the last of his coffee, and got up to start the day. 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Want a fic? Claim a [prompt](http://sahiya.dreamwidth.org/736914.html)!


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